


Bunny Stockage

by CandyPetals



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Choking, Crossdressing, Doggy Style, FrUK, Gay Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Missionary Position, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sadism, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 06:57:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16300241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyPetals/pseuds/CandyPetals
Summary: It's revenge time for England, but things take an unexpected turn....who knew France was so attracted to someone he had such a complicated relationship with? Well instead of hating his guts, he's in them guts.





	Bunny Stockage

**Author's Note:**

> HEY! I'm back with another raunchy fanfic! Ugh, I can't believe I'm still flourishing despite midterms and other complicating shit. Anyways, here's the disgusting sequel to that one cross dressing fanfic.  
> Anyways, a couple fair warnings: dirty talking, a shit ton of profanity, choking, and rough sex.
> 
> Enjoy!

France stared for what seemed like forever. A very very long time. He couldn’t take his eyes off of what sat before him.  
Was this real? Was any of this actually real? Why was this happening to him? What had he done to deserve this??  
And why wasn’t he hiding his boner?  
Before him stood a very flirtatious and needy looking England, dressed in a red corset with white bunny ears. He stood with a bulge protruding from the corset as he stared back at France with lustful eyes and a deeply reddened face.  
Black tights hugged his thighs, bringing out a slight plumpness to them.  
It was all France could stare at.  
“Come fuck your bunny, Francis.” He whispered this oh so lightly, his hands running down his body, gliding over every part of his torso as he licked his lips.  
France didn’t move. Was this legal? Was this okay? Was this even right?  
How come he couldn’t summon the words for this situation? Was it just that fucking weird? He didn’t know. He just didn’t know. He couldn’t answer everything. Was he supposed to be some god??  
How would he even know…  
“Hurry, France. Don’t let me hop away.” England whined, waving his ass left and right with a playful look in his eyes.  
The Frenchman wasn’t going to just stand there. He had to get on that before he lost it!  
With hungry eyes, France dove for his frenemy, arms stretched out and tongue lashing about.  
Suddenly he woke up.

He sat upright in his bed as the sun shone in through the curtains and onto his covers in square patterns. He looked down at the dark spot in his bedspread, his bulge still alive and twitching.  
Shit.  
He whispered a swear as he realized he had done it again. He had managed to ruin yet another beautiful bedset.  
With a sigh, the frenchman stood to his feet and looked out the window.  
Having dreams like this was starting to get ridiculous for him. He couldn’t keep dealing with this.  
But England was his enemy. Well...sort of. They did have quite a bit of history together. But still. He couldn’t be dreaming about him in that way, it just made no sense.  
Besides...he wanted to celebrate winning his bet.  
Oh, well.  
Time to get ready for the day.  
France gathered some clothes and prepared for his shower. He would alert his nurse about the mess in the bed.  
…..On second thought, perhaps he would deal with it himself.  
Once that was figured out, he stepped into the shower and began washing.  
During his shower, he thought about his dream a little while longer.  
Why would he dream of England wearing a bunny outfit? He didn’t even like that sort of thing…  
The black stockings were hot though. Very hot. He remembered that very vividly.  
It was enough to bring his erection back to life as he sat in the shower.  
Shit, why was he thinking about this now? He had won the bet and even got him to make a move on America. He was going to enjoy a bottle of wine and relax with some television and looking into a mirror. He deserved today to himself after winning that bet.  
France stepped out of the shower, realizing his erection hadn’t gone away.  
Was he going to have to deal with this before doing anything else?  
With a defeated sigh, he laid on the bed and lightly grazed the tip of his hardened dick.  
What was he going to daydream about to get this to go away?  
Hm….the idea of soft, glowing and sexy legs crossed in a suggestive manner turned him on.  
Wearing black stockings made it even hotter.  
And a red corset.  
With black bunny ears and a flushed face begging for pleasure.  
Furrowed bushy eyebrows as he moans into his ear.  
Thrusting into him while telling him how much of a slut he was for wearing such revealing clothing.  
Squeezing his ass cheeks and plowing into him, listening to him scream for more.  
Just. Fucking. Him. Senseless.  
France felt his muscles tense up as he orgasmed with a low moan, cumming all over the sheets and on his bare stomach with his eyes closed shut.  
He went limp for a moment afterwards, panting and staring up at the ceiling.  
Shit. That was quick.  
France sat up all of a sudden.  
Wow. He couldn’t have possibly done that while thinking of anyone else. That was intense. He hadn’t ejaculated that quickly in a long time.  
This was insane….  
*ring ring*  
*ring ring*  
France flinched at the sound of his phone ringing.  
Still naked, and a little out of it from his tugging session, he grabbed the phone and answered it with a husky “Hello?”  
“France, we need to talk about something. Can you meet me at the conference hall?”  
France raised a brow. What did America want at this time in the morning?  
“Of course, but it’s a Saturday. No one’s there.” he answered.  
“Yeah. That’s why I want us to meet up.”  
France shrugged to himself and concluded, “Okay, very well I’ll be there within the hour.”  
“Cool. See ya there.”  
*click*  
France put the phone back and thought to himself for a moment.  
What did America want? He didn’t even think to ask him...jeez.  
Well, he couldn’t waste any time now. He had to get ready to meet with America.  
******************************************************************  
“America? I’m here.”  
France called out in the large atrium. He didn’t see a single soul.  
Jesus America, he thought to himself, where the hell are you?  
He pulled out his cellphone and dialed America’s number, then waited as he listened to the dial tone.  
When America picked up, he spoke, “Where are you, America? I don’t see you anywhere in here.”  
“I’m in the private room west from the conference hall. Come quickly.”  
France sighed, and began walking to the private room.  
He hoped this wouldn’t be some kind of tedious matter. He hoped it wouldn’t waste his time, either. Whatever the deal was going to be, he hoped it wouldn’t last too long. His mind was somewhere else right now, despite everything.  
He had seen a glimpse of England changing when they had first initiated his deal with winning the bet. He had wondered if perhaps he would see more. He figured that the horny thoughts that had riddled him just a day or so before was just a phase.  
But obviously it wasn’t.  
And that was so so aggravating. Like, on all levels of it.  
Why? Because he was his enemy….frenemy...whatever. He wasn’t supposed to feel that way about him. Now, he wasn’t going to deny that England had a very nice body. Sexy legs, nice smile, pretty eyes…..  
Jesus.  
France shook his head.  
He couldn’t think about this or he would just get annoyingly turned on again.  
He finally got to the private room and opened the door, walking in as he muttered, “Well, what did you want to talk to me about America…?”  
He stopped talking immediately.  
Sitting on the desk, America stood with a menacing smirk on his face as he looked back at France.  
The Frenchman didn’t know what to say.  
What the hell was this about?  
“France, my man…” he began, standing up with his arms folded, “You really pulled one on me the other day, didn’t you?”  
France stared back with wide eyes now.  
Now he knew what this was about.  
“A..America,” he began unsteadily, “Let’s talk about this...what exactly are you going to do to me?”  
America chuckled, almost evily, as he answered, “No worries, my man. I won’t hurt you. Trust me, if I wanted to I would. But what you did….it benefited me in several ways. I found out some things about myself…”  
He stopped walking once he was a few feet from the other nation as he said, “I know things about you, though.”  
France bit his lip. Fuck. Fuck. What could he do to get out of this?  
“America, it was a silly bet. I was just trying to help you,” he laughed nervously, “You figured out a neat fetish, right? And England was willing, too! I would’ve never made him do if he didn’t want to. So this isn’t about that, is it?”  
“No. I know you have limits.” America answered, serious for a moment. “I wouldn’t dare accuse you of something like that. You’re beyond that kind of thing. What I’m pissed about is that you poked and poked until I couldn’t take it anymore. You found my weak spot and wouldn’t stop until you got me to go into some strange sexual spiral.”  
He held his hands up as he continued, “I almost died that day, dude! That was dangerous! Sending England in that sexy little outfit and causing me to turn him into a mess. You should’ve seen him!”  
France couldn’t help but attempt to picture that. A weak, sexually dazed England, lying on the bed with his eyes glowing from an intense session, a soft blush across his face. Thighs trembling….huffing softly….looking back with the most innocent dark jade eyes…..  
France gasped when he realized he was growing hard again.  
America must have noticed, grinning once more as he said, “But I’ll let you off this time. I’m gonna leave you with some advice though….”  
He leaned close and whispered:  
“Don’t fight your dick. You’ll always lose.”  
With that, he walked out of the room.  
France stared at the door for a while.  
What the hell…? Why was he behaving this way? Why was his penis defying him? Behave, penis!  
Suddenly he heard someone enter from another door, and he froze.  
Oh, fuck.  
Slowly, he turned.  
He felt his dick screaming at him when he caught sight of what stood before him.  
Sitting perched on the desk right where America had been, the British nation stood leaning against it, sitting in a tight fitting black corset with white bunny ears, white cuffs on each wrist and lust dulled eyes.  
He wore tight black stockings, which hugged his thighs as he stood where he was.  
God damn it.  
“E….England...what the hell is this…” France gasped, taking a step back.  
England didn’t respond. He continued to stare back with a deeply flushed face, lips pursed and eyes lowered.  
“God damn it, Angleterre!” he yelled, “Don’t look at me like that! You sneaky fucking black sheep!”  
“B-black sheep!” England finally blurted, anger rising in his voice, “You disgusting pig! It’s your fault I’m in this to begin with! You should’ve never made that goddamn bet in the first place!”  
“So there IS a grumpy old man still in there under all that horniness, huh!?” France retorted, “You’re so fucking stupid!”  
“I’m stupid now, huh?” England stepped from the desk, slowly inching closer to the frenchman, “So I’M Stupid for trying to get back at you after that ridiculous bet? I’m the one who’s dumb as fuck for coming up here in your FANTASY outfit sitting here taunting you!? You might be right, you slimy fucking frog. I probably AM stupid. I probably have a fucking problem. I probably need to take a chill pill or go the hell home. But I don’t want to. Because I saw that look in your eyes, France. I saw how you couldn’t get your goddamn eyes off of me. And I’m gonna bask in that. Because I know I get to you in some way.”  
He began taking firm steps forward now, as France tried to step back until he felt the door pressed against him.  
“And you can’t even deny it, can you?” England continued, “Because you know I’m right. Because you know I get to you. Because you know for a fucking FACT that I make your dick hard. I make you wanna fuck me, don’t I? Well guess what, dick for brains. You CAN’T. And no matter what you do or say, I will NOT let you fuck me. I will NOT let you touch me because I am OFF LIMITS.”  
France stared back in awe, as England towered over him now by standing on the tips of his toes. He stared down at France with turbulent eyes, despite how bright of a red his face was.  
France lowered his eyes at him and mumbled, “So this was your little plan? To tell me off wearing such a flashy outfit?”  
England took a small step back, keeping a stern look on his face as he folded his arms. “That’s right.” he spat.  
France looked down at the other nation, his eyes still lowered, as he asked, “Do you think I’m stupid? Some horny child looking for a fiddle? Of course not.”  
As he spoke, he stood tall.  
“You’re right, England. You’re off limits. I refuse to touch you against your will.”  
His voice lowered now, and he pressed his body against England’s, who gasped lightly.  
“But deep down in there, you know that there’s an itch that needs to be scratched. You may not open yourself to me now, which is fine. But if you think for a second that that little attitude of yours is going to last, it won’t. I know there’s an ache deep down in your body. I’ve known you since you were in diapers. I know you want to be ravished in a way that a young nation like America couldn’t do to you. Sure, you might think that you and America being fuck buddies is cool and all, but what I will do to you will make a larger imprint than that of America. You’ll want more. You’ll be left quaking. You’ll be left wanting sloppy seconds. You’ll want me to make a mess of you. You’ll be at my doorstep begging me to take your clothes off and make you experience things you’ve never experience. I will make you question your morals. I will not fuck you. I will not plow you. I will ravish you.”  
There was a distant, hazy glow in England’s eyes at his words.He seemed to be in some sort of trance as he looked up at him.  
“You mean that….don’t you?” he asked lightly, staring with lowered eyes now.  
“Yes.” France answered shortly.  
He continued to stare at him, acknowledging the feeling of another man’s body against his, and suddenly he wrapped his arms around him.  
“You….can’t do that.” he whispered, “You….you can’t...make me feel this way….”  
France paused when he felt something pressing against his bulge.  
When had he become so hard?  
France hid a small grin. Not only was England hard, but he was growing hard as well.  
“Shit….” England hissed, “It wasn’t supposed to go this way….”  
Out of nowhere, the Englishman began rubbing against the taller nation, letting out a small, needy whimper.  
It was enough to send France spiraling.  
“Jesus, Angleterre,” France murmured, “Y-you’re going to kill me,”  
There was so much body heat coming from him, and he smelled so good. He let off some kind of aroma that left him feeling even hornier.  
France’s hands slid down to England’s thighs, and with trembling fingers he rubbed them sensually, leaning in for a kiss.  
The other nation cooperated willingly, pressing his lips against the other man’s. He buried his fingers into the golden locks of France’s hair, closing his eyes as he leaned further into the kiss.  
A tongue slid ever so easily into his mouth, and he felt his heart racing. Was this...right?  
Well, it wasn’t like he was in a relationship with anyone...sex was sex.  
What was wrong with being in an open relationship, anyway? America knew this. So did France.  
All of this made him feel so damn horny.  
He hadn’t realized that he had been grinding on France all while they were kissing, until the older nation pulled away and whispered into his ear, “You want me to ravish you right here, don’t you?”  
“Fuck me like you’re pissed.” England hissed back, “I want to feel your tension.”  
France closed his eyes as he answered, “I don’t fuck. I ravish.”  
England felt his very being quiver from those feverish words, submitting to the hot pair of lips brushing down his neck.  
He felt suction there, and it wrenched out a small moan from him.  
God, this was too good to be true. This had been building up for years. Years of sexual tension and anger, and other emotional ridiculousness. All of it would be relinquished here.  
And he didn’t want it to just be wam bam thank you ma’am. He wanted to be ravished. He wanted France to ruin his clothes, make him look like a mess. He wanted a mark to be left once they were finished.  
France began palming England’s bulge, massaging his erection through the material of the corset.  
“Ah…..ahn….”  
France stopped when he realized he was causing the Brit to make such beautiful noises.  
He looked back at him and whispered, “Don’t hold yourself back.”  
England smiled as if he were daydreaming, and uttered, “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on it.”  
France smirked, sliding the crotch of the outfit aside to expose his flushed, hardened cock.  
He suddenly felt his own dick being set free from his pants, watching England’s hands work their magic.  
The Frenchman stifled a groan of pleasure as the other nation gave him a rewarding hand job, eyes closed and gripping England’s ass cheek with on hand.  
“Fuck,” he whispered, “Your hands are so soft.”  
England chuckled softly, pumping France’s dick and adding a little pressure the further up to the tip he would reach. He saw a bead of precum glowing from the tip, and brushed it with the pad of his thumb, causing a brief stimulation.  
The Brit suddenly paused and asked, “Hey….do you happen to have lube?”  
“Angleterre,” France stammered, “You know I didn’t come prepared…”  
“I’m joking, you dolt.” England quipped, “Obviously I came prepared.”  
He looked down at France’s twitching erection and cooed, “But first we need to get this handled,”  
After that, he bent over and wrapped his lips around the tip, and continued using his hands while sucking.  
“Agh-! B-Britain..!” France grunted, digging his fingers into his hair.  
Stupid England. Making him blush and moan like this. Stupid fucking England. Sucking him off as if he were some expert...fucking England.  
Speaking of, the younger nation began moaning quietly, causing a vibration to run through his cock, as he slid his mouth down further, his hands caressing his ballsack and stroking them tenderly.  
He moved from sucking on his dick to his balls, tugging on them with his lips while still pumping France’s cock at a faster pace. He began making sloppy slurping noises the harder he stroked.  
“F-fuck...I think I’m gonna-!”  
England gasped as he was met with cum spewing into his face, his tongue still sticking out.  
France panted now, looking down at the mess he had made. “O-oops…!” he chuckled.  
“Oops!?” England cried, “You got it all over my fucking face! Goddamn it….”  
He sighed as he wiped his face, saying, “Well….at least that means you felt good.”  
France nodded slowly, then slid close to England.  
“Well, it’s going to take a while before I get started up again….so now it’s your turn.” France spoke with mischief in his voice.  
England looked away for a second, then down at his erection, which had been growing profusely since having given him a blow job.  
“Ah….I see.” he whispered, “I...I want…”  
“Spit it out, already.” France insisted, “It’s just the two of us.”  
England stood up now, bending over and spreading his ass cheeks.  
“I want your mouth here…” He murmured shyly, blushing like mad.  
France had to laugh a little. That angry ball of fire was acting completely different now. What was the occasion?  
He decided not to tease him about it, and bent down to spread his cheeks apart.  
He noticed how clean and bald his ass hole was. It winked slightly, and for some reason it turned France on.  
The Frenchman held a hand to England’s mouth from behind and asked politely, “Do me a favor and use those succulent skills to help get you ready?”  
England cringed. “Why are you being so nice about it?”  
He simply shook his head and wrapped his lips around two fingers, licking them all over and sucking sensually.  
Once he had lubricated the two digits properly, he pulled away and whimpered, “Just hurry up and do it…”  
France complied, sliding one finger in, rewarding himself with a small whine from the man under him.  
He made a scissoring motion with his fingers as he screwed them further inside, causing England to whimper as he squirmed.  
“Quit moving, mon cherie.” he spoke in a low voice, “You have to relax if you want this to feel good.”  
The other nation nodded, biting his lip. “I can’t help it.”  
France shook his head and chuckled a little, then he leaned forward and lightly grazed his tongue against the entrance of his anus.  
“F-France!?” England cried, “Y-you should’ve warned me…!”  
“Calm down,” he whispered briefly, “You’ll be feeling better soon,”  
With that, he continued stretching, licking and tongue fucking his hole, causing him to squirm and trembling through the entire thing. He was very precise with his movements, ensuring that each flick, stroke and caress would bring out a different sound of pleasure from England.  
Once he was finished preparing him, he pulled away, and looked down realizing that his erection had come back to life.  
“Well, it can’t be helped…” France sighed, “I can’t hold myself back.”  
“Then hurry up and fuck me,” England breathed, “Right here on this desk.”  
“Didn’t we go over this, Angleterre? I don’t fuck. I ra-”  
“Yes, I get it! Now stop wasting time!” England whined, waving his ass at France, “There’s no need to keep saying it.”  
“Such a needy little slut, I see.” France grumbled, spreading the Brit’s legs apart.  
“What’re you going to do about it, frog?” England quipped with lowered eyelids, “What’re you going to do to me for being a nasty slut?”  
France gave him a very devious glare before rubbing his cock against the wet, hot heat of England’s arse, receiving a very needy moan as he squirmed and arched his back.  
“Hmmm….” The Frenchman muttered, “Perhaps I could see how far I’ll go before actually giving you what you want.”  
“You can’t do that,” England whimpered, “I...I won’t beg.”  
“Are you sure?”  
With a small thrust, the tip of his dick was shoved in ever so lightly, giving the other nation the brief sensation and wrenching a cry of pleasure from him.  
“G-God damn it…!” He hissed, “I didn’t expect it to feel like that.”  
“Heh...what’s the matter, frog?” England taunted breathlessly, “Has it really been that long since you’ve slept with someone? Do you want it that bad? Fucking cuckold. You let America get to it when you had air and opportunity to--”  
Without warning, France had given a more aggressive thrust, shoving himself deep inside the hot tightness and causing England to shout from both surprise and the stimulation.  
“Quit talking,” France growled, pinning the other man against the desk by lying his upper body onto him and grabbing both wrists.  
“Ngh…!!! Nice to s-see there’s some fire in there…!” England groaned, “D-did I strike a nerve?”  
“Shut up.” France snapped, and began thrusting at an almost steady pace, each movement more aggressive than the last.  
The movement silenced England almost immediately, but not for long as he winced with each thrust. It felt good, being fucked in this manner. He could literally feel the agitation and control emanating from the man on top of him, and damn did it make him quiver. He had always wanted to see this side of him. Even now, as he huffed in his ear, biting on the back of his neck while being restrained and unable to move from this position, it left him with a hot, submissive demeanor about himself.  
Why did he not want to take control? What was different about this from how it was with America? Was it really that much more different? Perhaps he needed to stop comparing this to when he and America had had sex.  
Suddenly his throughts were interrupted when France’s cock hit his hot spot.  
“Agh!” he yelped from the sudden feeling, but shortly after he felt as if he were melting, and crooned, “F-France, you’re...y-you’re hitting my spot!”  
“You like that, don’t you, slut?” France breathed into his ear, slapping his ass hard.  
“AH!” England cried out again, arching his back from the burning sensation. “Y-yes!”  
“Of course you would, you dirty naughty bunny.” he chuckled, holding up England’s leg high enough to set it on the desk so he would have more room to thrust. He noticed that his left ass cheek was already beginning to glow a bright red.  
God, he had never called anyone a slut in bed. He had never felt the urge to do so, but with England...jesus. It was definitely different. Something about those cute noises he made and the way he would get so bossy about how he wanted to be fucked just pushed his buttons.  
Maybe it was because it was England and his ridiculous fucking ways. Maybe there was something behind this.  
He continued thrusting into the Englishman while hissing, “You’re such a fucking slut….you’re so dirty and hot and annoying all at the same fucking time. I don’t know why it’s so satisfying to do this to you.”  
“Y-you talk a lot of shit for a cuckold.” England quipped, then received another raw slap on the ass for his harsh words.  
“D-don’t talk to me like that,” France reprimanded between thrusts, “You’re on thin ice.”  
Suddenly he change positions, turning England to face him and pushing him onto the desk, towering on top of him and sliding back inside, this time a little rougher.  
This caused England to stiffen from it, wrapping his legs around France’s waist and hugging his body close to his own.  
“Ah, fuck me harder,” England gasped, burying his face into France’s neck, “Fuck me until I can’t walk anymore.”  
“Shut up,” France blurted, “I told you already…!”  
Still, he complied. He began plowing into England hard enough for there to be a clapping sound from his crotch slapping against the other’s ass cheeks. He could hear short, hushed moans coming from the Brit as he clung to him with a tight grip on his cock. Each thrust seemed to cause his ass to tighten up around it even more.  
It was ridiculous how attracted he was to this man. He didn’t understand. They were supposed to hate each other.  
France felt an urge like he hadn’t felt before. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling it now, of all times, but every instance in which he had ever put his hands on England came to mind. Including every since time his hands had ever made it to his neck.  
What was his mind doing to him? What was being implied?  
France noticed that England had become quiet as he looked away mid thrust.  
“What is it? What’s wrong?” He asked with a little more concern than he probably should have shown towards him, looking into his eyes, “Are you losing interest?”  
“N-no,” England answered shakily, “It’s just...y-you’re holding back for some reason.”  
“I’m not.” France retorted, “Just...Just….”  
England shot a look at him during all their movement and whispered, “Whatever it is that’s going on in that fucked up head of yours, I want you to do it. We’re alone, it’s just us...j-just fucking do it.”  
“Angleterre,” he uttered, his voice trailing off. He began thrusting a little slower.  
England let go of France, lying on his back, and murmured, “Give it to me. Don’t you dare get soft on me.”  
France felt something come undone. He looked at the pale, velvet throat that appeared to be at his expense.  
His hands flashed to England’s neck, and he gripped it with enough strength to cause the man under him to buck his hips upward and close his eyes tightly.  
He squirmed, but he didn’t make a movement to tears his hands away. He simply rested his own hands on the other’s wrists and motioned for him to continue.  
France began pounding into him now, drawling through gritted teeth, “You little slut….putain merde!”  
He noticed that England had become tighter and hotter inside now, and it surprised him a little. Either that was a reflex or England was getting into this.  
Had he discovered a neat little fetish of his? Did this make France a sadist? Why was sex such a different thing for just England vs all the other partners he had been with in the past?  
He leaned towards England’s face with lowered eyes as he whispered, “You like that, don’t you? You like being fucked like this, and you like being choked. You’re one sick fuck.”  
England slit his eyes open with clenched teeth and a deeply flushed face as he let out a small choked whimper, hands still clamped around France’s wrists.  
The older nation smirked and continued, “Y-you’re such a nasty slut...you want daddy to let you cum??”  
Britain whined now, a submissive look his eyes shone as he nodded stiffly.  
With that, the Frenchman put all he had into the next few thrusts, hitting the prostate each and every time, and causing England’s legs to tremble and shake.  
The British nation managed to release a strangled, euphoric moan as he finally climaxed, his body stiffening and his legs stretched out, eyes half rolled to the back of his head and tongue sticking out.  
France could feel the wet, hot muscles of England’s ass tugging relentlessly on his dick, and he too climaxed not too long after with a very low and shaky groan, tightening his grip on the other nation’s neck for just a brief moment.  
They stayed like this for a long time, before France slumped over on England’s chest, legs with barely enough strength to keep himself up.  
England lay limp now, staring up at the ceiling with half lidded eyes as he laid a hand in France’s hair. He panted softly, chest heaving.  
Cum began trickling from his ass shortly after, trickling down his thighs and down the desk.  
Neither of them were aware of what to say at the moment. It had been the best sex either of them had ever experienced. What were they supposed to say to each other besides how good all of it felt?  
“.....Angleterre,” France whispered, still breathless, as he sat up slowly, “Are you alright?”  
He looked down at him and winced when he realized how bad a shape he had left him in.  
England looked back up at France, silent as first, obviously still catching his breath. His stockings were torn, and his leotard was wrinkled badly. He was washed down in sweat, his hair damp, and red rings glowed from having been choked for the time being. His ass was flushed from where he had been spanked, and his legs were still very shaky and wobbly.  
“Yikes…” he uttered, “Sorry, Angleterre.”  
“N-no...it’s...quite alright.”  
England finally attempted to stand, but when it appeared that he was having a hard time, France grabbed him by his arm and slung it over his shoulder, allowing him to stand upright a little.  
He took off his coat swiftly and wrapped it around England. “I didn’t think it would turn out like this...I’m terribly sorry.”  
“I said it’s alright…” England whispered, “Besides….it….it was really good.”  
France smiled. “Yes...yes it was. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.”  
“I feel the same..” The Brit agreed, “But….I do have to asked….did you always fantasize about choking me like that?”  
“U-uh, no.” France stammered, finally recollecting everything that had happened, “That was a spur of the moment thing...trust me, it surprised me to see that you were okay with it.”  
“Hah...well….” England’s voice trailed off for a moment when he realized he was still only wearing a corset. “Oh, shit. I look ridiculous...Do you mind if I stay the night at your house?”  
“Of course, Angleterre.” France answered welcomingly, “We need to get you some water and sit you down to relax. You...did good.”  
“Th-thank you,” England chuckled, “You...did good too.”  
France nodded slowly, and carried England in his arms out of the room.  
As they approached France’s car, England asked, “So...we got a lot of weird shit to talk about on the way home….huh?”  
France nodded once more, sitting him in the seat. “All of that will come in due time, though. We can take our time. But what about America?”  
“Well…..we might need to talk to him, too.”  
The Frenchman winced at the thought of it, but shook his head and agreed silently as he cranked up the car.  
With that, the vehicle sped down the street and towards home.  
A man stepped out with a video camera, laughing to himself.  
“Oh, don’t worry….you don’t have too much that needs to be said.” he snickered, “I know all that I need to know about you two.”  
“But I’m welcome to the idea of the three of us getting together….heheh.”

(END)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello beautiful, glad to see you survived that shit storm.  
> Anyways, should I keep writing on this dead series? Should I let it die? Should I work on something wholesome and meaningful rather than about nasty stank sex?? Well there's no use in asking any of those, because I'm already working on a wholesome fanfic. Stay tuned for something with more feeling and less succ. See y'all later, I have a free trial of death to test out for about 8 hours.  
> btw, am I the only one that think France would be ADORABLE and loving during aftercare if he were into bdsm?


End file.
